Strawberry Wine
by DarkPhoenix1987
Summary: Castiel is sent to live with his Aunt Naomi on her dairy farm in Kansas. Miserable and bored, the only thing for him there is the handsome mechanic, Dean. The two form a bittersweet relationship that grows red and wild as their young hearts. They learn that the loss of innocents and first love are two things you can never truly let go.
1. Kansas

Hey guys. So this story was very much inspired by a song I love. It's called Strawberry Wine by Deana Carter. It also has a lot to do with other stories I've read. I wanted to write something beautiful and tragic.

If you have any questions let me know. Visit my profile for my tumblr. Feel free to leave comments or private message.

A warning, i do not have a beta at this point. If anyone would be interested please let me know.

Also if you see anything blatantly wrong let me know.

* * *

Castiel stood before the large house. It had seen better days. The once lustrous white paint was faded and chipped; the large wrap-around porch had loose, splintered boards, and the chair that swung there was long gone. The fields that were once filled with thriving crops were grown over now, and it had been years since they'd seen a plow.

It had been ten long years since he had last stepped foot here, and the place was almost unrecognizable when compared to that summer. Castiel looked out over the acres; Aunt Naomi had passed no more than a week ago and left it all to him.

The service was beautiful. It was strange saying goodbye to her since he hadn't seen her in so long, but he remembered her for who she was and what she did for him. Thinking about that time here sent a pang of sorrow through his chest, clamping down on his heart and making it hard to breath.

Inside, the house looked as if time had stood still; still the same couches covered in plastic, the mantle above the fireplace coated with a layer of dust, faded pictures barely clinging to the walls. The real difference was that the smell of wildflowers had faded and had been replaced with stale air.

His room looked the same, as if no one had been in here since he was. Records sat in a pile next to the player in the corner, empty bottles of wine lined the windowsill, their dark glass causing a kaleidoscope of colors to light the walls.

His eyes slid across the room, the small bed was still unmade. Looking around gave him nostalgia, causing the memories of his youth to come flooding back.

Castiel spun around on one heel, he had to leave before it all became too much.

In the kitchen a photo album sat atop the table with a small envelope, his name written on it in flowing script. He opened it, and recognized the handwriting.

_Dear Castiel,_

_Enjoy these memories as if they happened yesterday._

_Aunt Naomi._

He flipped the open the album, a smile tugging at the sides of his face. The photos were from a time he had left behind; him sitting on the porch with a wine bottle clutched in his hand, the pigpen occupied by the elephantine hog, the sun setting over the creek. Pages of old pictures, memories he had left behind. None of them very good, but they were still his.

There it was—the one that sent goose bumps over his body and knotted his stomach. He pulled it from the plastic cover, and gazed at it as if it was going to come to life before his eyes. Him and Dean; the older man's large muscle arm pulling him closer to his body, both of them smiling without a care in the world, a large combusting firework cascading down a stream of sparks behind their heads.

Castiel pulled the picture close to his chest and held it there. Dean was as beautiful as he remembered, like he could ever forget him. He was the one thing about that summer that made it worthwhile.

Dean Winchester was the one reason he came back to this place.

XXX

"Castiel, are you listening?"

Castiel was sitting on the large leather chair that faced out the window, the penthouse apartment facing out over Central Park. He had one hand dug into the cushions, the other clutching a glass of whiskey. He takes a long sip, and swallows hard before he responds.

"Of course I'm listening. I always listen when you speak, Metatron." Castiel said bitterly. He tilts the glass back and drinks down what little liquor is left before wiping his mouth with his sleeve. The whiskey washes down with a burn, but it doesn't bother him.

The older man rubs the bridge of his nose, visibly annoyed, a headache slowly forming. "I don't know why you insist on calling me that. My name is Marv. You know that."

Castiel looks up to the man standing beside him; his hair is a tangled mess of salt and pepper running down into a weeks' worth of stubble. His dress shirt is no longer clean and pressed, but stained with bits of drink and food. The man must have been running around for a days with little rest.

"I don't know why you insist on doing my father's bidding." Castiel snapped back. He didn't mean to take out his frustration on Marv, he was only the messenger, but he was the only one around.

"As I've told you before, your father is a very busy man and can't be bothered…"

"Can't be bothered," Castiel cut off Marv's words bitterly, "To tell his own son that he's banishing him from his kingdom." Every word was filled with an increasing amount of disdain. "But I suppose his word is law around here, and you are just his voice, Metatron." The glass in Castiel's hand flies from his grip and shatters against the pane of glass.

Marv doesn't flinch. His pudgy, round face is sympathetic toward the younger man. "You know why your father is doing this?" Marv asks; his voice cautious. "He's doing this because he loves you, and wants what is best for you."

Now it's Castiel's turn to have a headache. This had nothing to do with love or what was 'best for him,' this was all a selfish charade. This was a punishment. He was being treated like a child. And if he refused… there was no refusal with his father. He had the final say and there was no argument. It was set in stone. "Then why isn't he here to tell me this himself instead of sending his lackey?"

Marv's face turned as bright crimson as a cherry, his anger finally building to a fever pitch. "Well, whether you like it or not, you're going. So instead of acting like a spoiled brat, grow up and take your retribution like a man. Now go pack your bags and get a good night's rest, because you leave in the morning."

Marv turned on his heels and marched from the room, leaving Castiel to gaze out the window to the park below. This was the last time he was going to see this view for a long time.

Packing his bags, he tried his best to hold himself together. He stuffed as many pieces of clothing into his suitcase as he could; carelessly tossing whatever caught his eye. Not like it mattered at this point, he could wear a potato sack and probably fit in just fine. He picked up his camera from his dresser before hugging it to his body. This was the only possession he owned that mattered to him, and he tucked it into his bag with the utmost care.

A light knock came at the open door, and Castiel turned to find his brother, Gabriel standing there, arms crossed over his chest, his face filled with apprehension and concern. "Mind if I come in little brother?"

"Not like I could stop you." Castiel snaps, his words harsher than he intended. Gabriel doesn't take it personal. He jumps on the bed and lays across the covers, his arms crossed behind his head, much to Castiel's annoyance.

"How are you holding up?"

Castiel doesn't answer, his crumpled, sour face says enough. He continues to fill his suitcase, grabbing anything that means anything to him. "Look, I know this isn't ideal—"

"Ideal?" Castiel snarls. "This is crap." Castiel can no longer hold it in. He stuffs his bag until it is filled to the brim and zips it shut. "And you know the worst part about all of this is that I was really looking forward to this summer. Now, all of you get to spend a month in Paris and I get dropped off on a farm in Kansas, and for what? Because that _bitch _hates me."

By the time he was done, his chest was huffing up and down, his fists clenched in anger, tears on the brim of spilling from his eyes. Castiel dropped to the bed, his face falling into the trembling trenches of his palms. Without any words, Gabriel places a firm hand on his brother's shoulder, as if saying _everything will be all right. _

Everything will be alright.

XXX

Kansas. Of all the places in the world, he was sent to Kansas. What could possibly be in Kansas besides corn?

Castiel watches the fields of golden vegetables pass by from the window of the taxi. Gabriel was the only one who accompanied him the airport. He promised him that he was going to get him back home as soon as he could. He took that promise with a grain of salt; when his father puts his foot down, that is it. Now, he was stuck in the middle of America with nothing but a bunch of rednecks and cows.

He pressed his face to the glass and closed his eyes, hoping that when they opened back up that this would all become a distant nightmare, and he'd be back in his room. But when he opens them again, the fields the color of sunlight sting at his eyes. So this was it, his summer was going to be spent constantly smelling fertilizer and photographing livestock.

It's an hour ride before the taxi turns down a dirt road. The bumps cause Castiel to smack his head on the window. He swears under his breath, adding this to the list of things he already hates about this place. The cab travels down the road before it comes to a stop in front of what Castiel has to assume is his aunt's house.

The house it what you could call 'quaint'; it is a two story house painted a luminous pearl white with black shutters and door. The large wraparound porch has a swinging bench chained to the overhang by the door. The entire house could fit into the flat back in New York. A large red barn sits nearby, and although the house isn't the biggest, the property seems to go on for miles; there isn't a neighbor anywhere in sight.

As he drags his luggage toward the house, a woman stepped out from the front door; her auburn hair pulled back into a tight bun. A large smile on her face curls up into plump cheeks, and her apron is covered in flour. She rushes off the porch to meet him halfway. Castiel hasn't seen her since he was a child, but he recognizes her right away, Aunt Naomi.

"James," She says sweetly. "It's so good to see you after all these years."

Castiel flinches at the sound of his own name. No one ever calls his James anymore. He hates it. He goes by his middle name. "And look how you have grown." Her hands cup his face. "Everyone always said how handsome you would turn out."

"Hello, Aunt Naomi, it's good to see you too." He lies. He would much rather be flying across the Atlantic to Europe instead of stuck here, but he puts on a fake smile and pretends for her sake. "And I don't go by James anymore. Call me Castiel."

She puts one hand over her chest and makes a face that says _how precious. _"You don't understand how nice it is to have you here for the summer. Come in, I'll show you to your room. Then we'll get you something to eat, you're skin and bones."

The room is in the corner of the upstairs. The walls are plain white, and the furniture is simple. The only embellishment is an old record player sitting in the corner. The only window faces out onto the fields of endless crops. Sunlight seeps in, heating the room to an uncomfortable temperature.

"You know, this was your father's room when we were growing up."

Castiel sneers at her words. The last thing he wants to do is think about his father, let alone have to spend all his time in a room that once belonged to him. He drops his luggage on the bed.

"Thank you," he says, but it is more out of courtesy rather than real kindness. "I think I'm going to unpack."

She takes the hint. "Well when you're done, come down for some lunch, and then I'll show you around. You can meet the farmhands."

'_Great'_ he thinks to himself, '_Just what I want to do, meet the hillbillies_.'

It doesn't take long for everything to be put away. His shirts and pants are tucked away in the drawers, shoes lined up in the bottom of the closet. The room still reminded him of a prison cell. The only thing he keeps out is the empty photo album he bought at the airport. He might as well fill this up while he's here, even if it will just be pictures of mundane things. He takes his camera and slings it around his body before heading back downstairs.

The living room looks like no one has touched it since his grandparents lived here; old furniture covered in plastic, carpet that looks like it has seen much better days, and photos that appear ancient.

The smell of food hits him from the kitchen, where he could hear his aunt humming softly to herself. He enters to find a table with food piled high, all of it greasy and fried. His stomach churned at the thought. He was never one for food with that much power to stop his heart.

Aunt Naomi smiles at him. "Hello Jam—Castiel. Have a seat, I'm almost done. I made country-fried steak with white gravy, mashed potatoes, fried chicken, catfish, and cornbread. Anything your heart could desire."

What his heart desired was not to be clogged by her selection of greasy food, but his stomach had other ideas. He realized he hadn't had anything to eat since the day before, when he was so sick to his stomach that he had refused to eat dinner or breakfast.

He slid into the plastic chair, shifting uncomfortably, if he thought it was hot in the bedroom, it must have been twenty more degrees hotter in here. He had spent his life spoiled; the summers of New York blocked out by the convenience of air conditioning. Now he was paying for it.

"I have to admit; when your father told me you wanted to spend the summer here I was a little surprised." Naomi says as she turns off the stove and begins to fix him a plate. She doesn't hold off on the portions, and soon enough the place is filled to the brim with fried meats. "But I thought it was a wonderful idea. I haven't seen any you kids since…" her voice falters slightly, "Since that Christmas."

Of course, his father wouldn't tell her the truth about why he's here.

Castiel knows what Christmas she's talking about. It was a number of years ago, but he remembers her coming to visit them in New York. It was a dark time for the family, and she came to help. He didn't interact with her much, just kept to himself in his room.

"It's much appreciated." Castiel says through his forced smile. At least she's being hospitable towards him, all warm welcomes and smiles.

He can't bring himself to make eye contact with her, so instead he looks down at his place of grease and meat. His stomach rumbled at him. He forgot how little he ate in the past twenty-four hours.

Picking up his fork, he stabs into a piece of the country-fried steak, and, without a second thought, swallows it along with his fear. Naomi watches with bright eyes, pleased as his face changes from sour to amazed. This kind of food may not be healthy for anyone, but it sure was comforting, and Castiel stuffs himself with the greasy food until his stomach is packed tight.

They eat in silence until the backdoor swung open and a young woman walked in. "Naomi," She calls as she enters the kitchen; "It smells wonderful in-" She stops in the doorway as her eyes focus on Castiel. "Who's this?"

"Anna, this is my nephew, Castiel. Castiel, this is Anna Milton. Anna is a veterinary student at Kansas State University. She's been interning here for years, getting hands on experience with large farm animals."

Anna walks over and shakes his hand, her palms rough. She is nothing short of beautiful, the kind of girl who could be seen walking the streets of Fifth Avenue with shopping bags in one hand and a Starbucks coffee in the other. But instead she was here, her flaming hair falling in tangled waves down her shoulders, her torn jeans caked in mud.

Naomi smiles at her. "Castiel will be staying with us for the summer. Perhaps you would like to show him around." She phrases her words with a kind tone, but her statement is clearly not a request.

Anna smiles, "Of course."

Castiel follows Anna out of the backdoor into an area he hasn't seen. A large chicken coop sits against the house, the hens clucking around the ground or roosting in nests. Pens full of pigs sit shaded by a large tree; one so large Castiel has to do a double take. It is twice the size of any of the others on the property.

"That's Crowley," Anna says, pointing to the large hog. "Mean as a snake, but your Aunt thinks he could be a prize winner, so she hasn't cooked him up yet."

Next, he follows her past a team of horses; each grazing on the hay left for them, even a young colt staying close to its mother. Castiel has never really seen horses this close without them being attached to a carriage, so he picks up his camera from around his body and snaps a shot of the colt as it chases its mother.

"So, you're a photographer?" Anna asks as they move on from the horses.

"Oh yeah, I'm studying to be a professional."

"Columbia?"

Castiel shoots her wary look. "Tisch, but how did you know I was from New York?"

She shrugs. "Well, I know Naomi has family there, but it's mostly how you're dressed. No southern boy would be caught dead looking like that."

Castiel suddenly feels self-conscious about how he is dressed. He wasn't wearing anything extravagant or outlandish, but he could see how he was overdressed; a white dress shirt, pressed dress pants, black shoes that weren't Prada, and a loose tie.

"This is casual for me."

She laughs at him. "Causal around here means your jeans with the least amount of holes and a band t-shirt."

Castiel doesn't own any jeans with rips or holes, and he certainly doesn't have any band t-shirts. He suddenly feels like a fish out of water trying to climb a tree, because as much as he hates to admit it, he wants to fit in here, at the very least so he won't get teased.

Anna must be able to sense how uncomfortable he is, so she changes the subject. "Come on, I'll show you the barn."

The barn, as it turns out, is much larger than Castiel had first realized. It stretches far back until it ran into a field filled with more cows than Castiel has ever seen in his life.

"The barn is where the cows spend their time getting milked. Your aunt owns the largest privately owned dairy farm in the state."

"Is that why you came all this way to intern here?" Castiel may not have known much about this state, but he knew that Kansas State University was a far cry from here; it had to be a good hour's drive from the school.

"You'd be surprised how hard it is to find a good job without experience, especially for a woman who wants to work with farm animals. Believe it or not, this is a male dominated industry."

"So why do it?"

Anna doesn't seem too fazed by the question; instead, it's as if she has heard it a hundred times before. "Because that makes me want to do it more, to show those guys that a woman can do anything they can."

Casitel grins, nodding in respect. "How did you end up here?"

"I was looking for a place to get hands-on experience. I showed up at your aunt's doorstep, told her I wanted to work for her. Turns out she needed help with all the animals, so offered me a place to stay and a job. She taught me more than I ever could have learned sitting in a classroom."

Anna opened the barn. Inside, there were two rows of a dozen cows, each hooked up to a machine that was extracting the milk from their utters. The barn smelled of hay, and sounded like the buzz a million angry bees.

One of them rang an alarm, and Anna walks over to turn it off. "Could you wait here? I have to let this girl out." She says as she unhooks the cow from the machine and opens the cage. "I'll be back in a jiff."

Castiel walks up to the one of the cages. The cow inside looks back at him; its large black eye reflecting back his image, and he snaps another picture. Cautiously, he reaches out his shaky fingers and lays them on the cow's snout softly. He isn't sure how it would react to his touch, but it doesn't seem to mind. Its fur is short and coarse under his fingertips, and the only thing he has ever touched before that was this big was the Great Dane that lived in his building when he was kid.

"Excuse me." a gruff voice catches him off guard, making up pull his hand back and jump nearly a foot in the air. "I don't know who you are, or how you got in here, but this is private property."

"For your information…" Castiel starts, but as soon as he turns towards the voice his words are lost, it's as though they have turned to stones in his throat, and he is forced to swallow them back down.

Standing in the doorway of the barn is a man. Not just any man; the most drop-dead gorgeous man Castiel has ever seen in his entire life.

He was Castiel's height, with a thick crop of dark, chocolate-colored hair plastered to his forehead with sweat. His face is slightly weather-beaten, most likely from working outside in the hot sun. Freckles dot his face, shoulders, and chest. He isn't wearing a shirt, so Castiel can admire every inch of his torso, which is tight, and built with stacks of hard muscle wrapped in tan skin. Torn jeans hang low on his hips, a well-defined Apollo's belt directing Castiel's gaze downward.

Castiel isn't sure if this is an angel fallen from heaven, or a demon pulled from hell, but he knows his mouth feels dry enough that he won't be able to talk properly until he gets a drink of water. This man is like looking into the sun; staring too long would ruin Castiel's eyes.

"What the hell's the matter with you?" The man snaps, pulling Castiel from his trance. "Didn't you hear me kid? I said get the hell out of here before I call the cops."

Before Castiel can reply, Anna comes back, tugging another cow behind her. "Well, it looks like you've met the second biggest pig on the farm."

The man's demeanor changes when Anna speaks, his face softening from the vexed, crossed look into a smolder. "Anna, you want me so much you dream about it." He bites down on his bottom lip, which sends chills down Castiel's spine.

"I call those nightmares." Anna quips, and places the cow in the cage, hooking it up to the machine with sharp movements. "Dean, this is Castiel. Castiel, this is Dean Winchester."

Castiel extends his hand to shake Dean's, but the other man just stares at him like he's crazy. Castiel rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

Anna rolls her eyes. "Dean keeps all the machines working around here. Don't worry; his bark is worse than his bite."

Dean raises his eyebrows. "What, Naomi hiring a bunch of greenhorns now?"

Castiel lets out a deep sigh. Apparently it's easy to tell he doesn't fit in around here.

"This is her nephew. He's staying for the summer."

This doesn't seem to change anything for Dean. He looks Castiel up and down before pushing past him. "Make sure to stays out of my way."

Castiel glances at Anna. "Is he always…" He trails off.

She sighs, "Such a prick? Dean isn't such a bad guy; he just doesn't like new people. Don't take it personal. It takes him a little to warm up."

Castiel looks over to where the other man is working, and finds that not taking Dean's attitude towards him personally is easier said than done.

Anna claps his shoulder. "Come on, there a few more places to show you."

Anna goes on to show him the guesthouse, where Dean stays—Anna lives off of the farm—the grain silo, which is tall enough to give Castiel vertigo by just looking at it, and the fields upon fields of crops that Naomi rents out to other farmers for a pretty penny. All the while Anna talks about the farm, Castiel can't take his mind off of Dean. His father would never approve.

The one thing he noticed when Dean pushed past him were his eyes, green as a forest, the kind of eyes that Castiel could easily get lost in.

XXX

The night was hot.

Castiel spent the rest of the day lying in his bed. After his encounter with Dean, he didn't feel like doing much. He only came out of the room to eat, and that was more at Naomi's request rather than his own need for food. He was still a guest in her house and wasn't going to disrespect her. Dean was at the table, and Castiel made sure to avoid all eye contact. Dean didn't seem to notice, or care.

Anna could probably since the tension, as she made sure to keep conversation going, eventually giving up when it refuses to ebb. Naomi didn't seem to notice, spending the time commenting how happy she was to have a full table.

Now Castiel was staring at the ceiling, bored out of his mind. He wonders if it is possible to die from lack of entertainment. If so, he knows he won't make it through the week.

He is sweltering inside his room, the window doing very little to cool him off. How is it possible that it's just as hot at night as during the day?

He hears a knock at the door, and looks up to see Aunt Naomi standing there in her nightgown. Castiel sits up in bed. "Yes?"

"I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to bed now."

"Oh," Castiel says. "Well, goodnight, and thank you for dinner."

Naomi smiles, "Of course." She bites her lip before entering his room, "You know," She heads towards the record player. "I know this place isn't as glamorous as New York City, but if you want to listen to music, I have a whole collection of records downstairs in the armoire in the den."

"That's very kind of you, but I wouldn't want to keep you up."

"Nonsense, I could sleep through a cyclone. Enjoy yourself; I know how you kids like to stay up to the late hours of the morning." She smiles at him kindly. "Goodnight, Castiel." She says, and shuffles off to her bedroom.

Castiel huffs, and hauls himself to his feet, would rather have something to do than lay in bed bored all night.

In the den, there sits a large antique armoire, a small coating of dust blanketing the outside. Castiel opens it with an audible _creek,_ and sure enough, there is a large stack of vinyl records carefully laid inside. Next to that are several bottles filled with a dark violet liquid. Castile picks up one of the bottles, and a small smile pulls at his lips, they are filled with Strawberry wine. Maybe this night wouldn't be so bad after all.

With a bottle in one hand, and the records under his arm, he closes the armoire and heads back upstairs.

XXX

Dean was having a rough day. First, three different milking machines started acting up. For some reason, much to his frustration, they all decided that they would break down on the same day. He had to run to Bobby's shop to get parts to fix them—that meant a hour drive back and forth, not to mention the time it took to actually _fix_ the machines.

Then, the tractor needed an oil change, which in its self wasn't too bad, unless you counted the fact that he had to do it in the middle of a field of cows.

Then, to top it off, his Impala, his baby, started making a funny noise. Now, Dean could put up with a lot of crap, but if anything went wrong with Baby, there would be hell to pay.

Maybe that's why he took out his stress on the kid. He didn't mean to, it just sort of happened. It wouldn't have been the first time he caught a bunch of no good college kids sneaking onto the property to tip over cows. It was stupid, but so were college kids. He assumed that Castiel was just one of them, coming around to cause trouble.

The only thing that made him feel better was when he was able to settle down for the night, kick off his shoes, and drink a beer. Not having to worry fixing anything until the morning.

It only got better when his brother called.

"Sammy," He said as he answered the phone. "How'd your finals go?"

"They were fine, I'm pretty sure I passed everything with an A."

"That's my little super freak genius." Dean knew how much his little brother hated it when he made him seem like he was an oddball for doing so well in school. That's why Dean made sure to point it out; it was his job as an older brother to make his little brother uncomfortable any time he wanted. "So, when do you come back for summer?"

"Well, should be a week or two. I just wanna make sure I have everything in order for next semester before I leave."

The fact that his brother made sure to cover all loose ends before enjoying himself made Dean proud. He had always envied Sam for that, his ability to get everything in order before moving on.

"Are you sure it's okay if I stay there?"

"Of course, Naomi won't mind having an extra pair of hands around here. Hell, her nephew is living here now. That kid looks like he's going to need all the help he can get." Dean chuckled, "Actually, that might be an understatement; the kid looks like he stepped out of a yuppie social circle." He had no place on the farm. Crowley was going to eat him alive. "City kids, I tell ya."

"Well, I'm not exactly a country kid anymore, Dean. I've been a 'city kid' for a while now." Sam had spent the past three years at Stanford, about as far away from Kansas as you could get. "How bad were you?"

Dean took another drink of his beer. "I may have told him to stay out of my way, but you should see this kid Sammy, he's in over his head…"

"And he probably doesn't need someone making it any worse for him." Sam shot back, and Dean tightened his lips in a firm line. Sam had always possessed the unique ability to make him feel guilty about things that shouldn't bother him. "I mean, he's there for a reason, and I doubt it's because he's a farm enthusiast. Maybe you should apologize."

Dean didn't want to; he shouldn't have to, but if he knew he didn't, Sam would be on his case about it until he did. "You're a real pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Same to you, jerk."

Dean's lips twitched, "Bitch."

Both of them smiled, Dean could tell by Sam's laugh.

"I'll see you soon." Dean hung up the phone, finished the rest of his beer, and headed out of his room.

The night was hotter than usual. Dean could feel the sweat forming on his brow, and wiped it away with one hand, wondering how the new kid was finding the heat. If he thought it was hot, he could only imagine what Castiel was thinking.

On his way to the big house he could hear the faint sound of music. As he approached, the music grew louder. He could see someone sitting on the porch swing, feet up on the railing. Dean could tell it was Castiel. He was drinking something from a bottle as a slow tune played over a record player which was sitting beside him; it must have been the one from the house.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" Dean asked jokingly as he stepped up the porch.

Castiel didn't seem to find him funny. "I'm twenty-one and I know how to handle my liquor." He said dryly, his words short.

Dean knew that this defensive attitude was because of him.

Castiel sat on the swing, the bottle clutched in his hand, shirt open to the night air. Dean bit at his lip, and glanced him up and down. Castiel was willowy and toned; his body tight and tanned. His dark hair was a mess, making him look like he just woke up. Dean couldn't lie to himself, the kid was hot. The best part, however, were his eyes; so bright and blue, like puddles of crystal clear water. Dean was sure that looking into them would cause him to drown.

"Same age as my brother, Sam, do you mind if I join ya?" Dean asked.

Castiel shrugged before taking another long gulp from the bottle. "It's a free country."

Dean took a seat next to him on the swing. Both of them sat there, the only noise between them the soft guitar playing from the record player. Dean knew the song. He recognized the tune right away, his mother used to sing it to him.

_Well, I've been afraid of changing  
'Cause I've built my life around you  
But time makes you bolder  
Even children get older  
And I'm getting older too_

"Do you find something funny about this song?" Castiel asked.

Dean didn't even realize that he had let out a snort. "Uh, no, just not my kind of music, that's all."

"And what, pray tell, is _your_ kind of music?"

"Love the classics, stuff like Black Sabbath, Motorhead, Metallica. Hey, what's so funny?"

It was Castiel's turn to laugh, "Nothing, just that… you seem to have a very narrowly defined genre type."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, really…" Castiel seemed to hesitate as Dean looked at him. "But if you ask me, when you only listen to certain things, you tend to miss the beauty in everything else. Listen to this song, and try to understand what Stevie Nicks is talking about. She's singing about how she loved someone and is afraid that they've grown apart as they've grown up. It's tragic and beautiful."

Dean wasn't a fan, but still had to admit it was a wonderful song. He reached down to the stack of records sitting at his feet and flipped through them. "Fleetwood Mac, The Beatles, Janis Joplin."

"I think my aunt was secretly a hippy when she was my age."

Dean couldn't imagine Naomi as a hippy; she was so straight-laced and proper. He could only imagine what she looked like draped in tie-dye, colored glasses and a headband. The image was almost too funny. They both let out low rumbles of laugher. The awkwardness was finally starting to melt away.

"What are you drinking anyways?" Dean asked as he plucked the bottle from Castiel's hand.

"Strawberry wine, it's nothing too bad; and it's getting the job done." Castiel must have been a lightweight, his words were slowly starting to slur, and he wasn't even halfway done with the bottle.

Dean took a drink, the sweet floral booze washed over his tongue and slid down his throat. "Not bad Cas." He handed the bottle back. "Not bad at all."

"Cas?" Castiel questioned.

"Yeah, I figured it's easier than saying your full name."

Cas nodded in agreement, his cheeks blooming pink with color.

Dean smiled a little. "Anyways, I wanted to tell you that I didn't mean to come off as…"

"An ass?" Cas interrupted.

"Yeah, an ass. It was just a long day. Last city kid Naomi had here lasted about a week before he flaked out. And he was from Kansas. I guess what I'm trying to say is sorry, man."

Cas took another long sip from the bottle before giving Dean a weak smile, "Forgiven."

"So, what did you do to get sent here?"

Cas was taken aback by the question, unsure of how Dean knew he was sent here.

Dean chuckled at his expression. "I figure a kid like you has better things to do than spend his summer on a farm in Kansas."

Cas looked out into the dark open fields before answering. "The only thing I did wrong was fall in love with the wrong person." Dean winced at the answer but Cas didn't seem to notice. "My father is a very powerful man. He's CEO of one the world's largest technology companies. He's never really had time to waste on something so mundane as family; he's much too busy shaping the world in his own image. But my stepmother, Hester, has never liked me. She's always had it out for me. I started seeing one of my father's business associates. He was a much older man but I didn't care. He was the first person to ever pay attention to me or tell me I was worth something."

Dean felt a tingle of chills run down his spine. Cas' words struck something deep inside of him. He himself knew what i felt like to be starved for attention. "Hester caught us in bed. She decided that my 'lifestyle' was an affront to the lord, so she convinced my father to contact my aunt and had it arranged that I spend the summer here instead of in Paris with the rest of the family. It was either this, or he didn't pay for my college. It's so I can 'get my head straight.'"

"What happened to the dude?"

"Balthazar? He and my father no longer talk. Again, Hester's doing; she figured he brought sickness into her home, so he was no longer welcomed there. Sad thing is, he didn't do anything wrong. He just took it upon himself to make sure I felt important for once." Cas didn't hold back on the wine anymore, he held the bottle to his lips and began to chug. It took three more gulps before found it within him to pull it away.

"Did you really love him?"

It was a simple question, but Cas couldn't seem to find the right answer. "I may have, I'm not really sure. I mean, I loved the attention he gave me, how he made me feel special."

Dean could understand. Going through life without anyone caring for you isn't easy; you cling to the first glimmer of hope that shines through. "What about your brothers? How are they?"

Cas let out a snort as if the question was absurd. "Michael is a carbon copy of my father. He wants to follow in his footsteps, to become a captain of industry. He's also just as insufferable. Gabriel is the one who cares; he may actually hate Hester more than I do. He likes to play tricks on her, but even he has given into my father's demands about what he should be doing with his life. When I told my father I wanted to go to art school for photography… I think it was the last straw in a long string of disappointments. He wasn't even the one to tell me I was coming here; he had his assistant do it for him."

With every word, Dean felt a small surge of rage build inside of him. These people sounded like monsters. Cas, with his big blue doe eyes, looked like a harmless puppy. The fact that anyone could treat him that way was beyond incomprehensible.

"The best part is that I can't even enjoy my own name. I'm named after him. Every time someone calls me James or Jimmy, it just makes me sick to my stomach and fills me with resentment. That's why I go by my middle name."

"Who wants to be called James anyways," Dean said, "It's so common and boring. Cas is much better."

"Thanks," Cas said, his cheeks flushing red as corned beef.

"If it makes you feel any better, my family's no walk in the park either." Dean said, taking the bottle and finishing off what was left. Before he had time to say anything, Cas had pulled out another one and opened it.

"So how did you end up here?" Cas asked. "I doubt your father forced you to live here."

Dean let out a small laugh, "Hardly. No, my old man's a drunk. Don't think a day went by I didn't see him constantly inebriated. Old bastard's a mean drunk on top of it, more than once taking it out on me or my brother Sam. Whenever he went after Sam, I made sure to get in his way, couldn't let the kid take a beating for no reason."

Dean's memories were as vivid as he remembered; Sam crying, sick from hunger, having gone all day without eating, his father getting pissed, yelling at him to shut up. "I pretty much raised Sam myself, making sure he got enough to eat or helping him with his homework. We lived with that shit for years until I turned eighteen. Dropped out as soon as I could, packed our stuff, stole the Impala, and left with six bucks in my pocket…" Dean chewed his lip, reliving the memories of that night. "The biggest kicker… he didn't even try to look for us. That was seven years ago."

"Where'd you go?"

"Friends of the family, Bobby and Ellen. They took us in, no questions asked. Ellen owns a bar in town and Bobby has his own mechanic shop. He taught me everything I know about cars and machines. Offered me a job, but Naomi was looking for someone to help work on the machines here and could offer me more money. And that's my story."

"Where's Sam now?"

"That smartass ended up in Stanford, studying to be a lawyer. He's coming here in a couple of weeks. Couldn't be happier for him," Dean picked up the camera that was on the ground next to the record, "So why photography?" He snapped the picture of the Cas with the bottle of wine in his hand, a forced smile on his face.

"I enjoy seeing the beauty in everything. I've always dreamed about traveling the world and photographing it, finding all the wonderful spots hidden from everyone else's eyes. That's was what I wanted to do in Paris, it was going to be the inception of everything." Cas' voice trailed off, the realization of his current situation weighing in on him.

The music had ended without either of them knowing, as they were so lost in conversation. Dean was all right with it; the songs were depressing him anyways. "Let's make a toast," he said, having Cas raise his bottle. "To shitty parents, who needs 'em?"

Cas took a long drink before handing to Dean, who did the same.

"And now, I get to pick the music because that stuff was brining me down. Besides, none of them deserve us anyways." Dean said as he picked out a record without letting Cas see what he was putting on.

The beat was slow and soft. Cas gently swayed like a tree in the wind, his eyes closed, a smile creeping across his face.

"Wow," He said, "I didn't peg you as someone who would enjoy The Righteous Brothers."

"Not them, just this song. Like I told you, I love the classics. And this, my friend, is a classic."

_Oh, my love, my darling  
I've hungered for your touch  
A long, lonely time  
And time goes by so slowly_

Dean knew it was a beautiful song, no one could deny that. As the boys sat in the swing, swaying to the music, Cas—as his intoxication was taking over—let his head sink down and rest on Dean's shoulder. Dean was tense at first, but relaxed into his touch. It was enough to get Dean's blood pumping and needles running over his skin.

"Cas?" The younger man let out a small 'hmm,' as he his breathing slowed. He was slipping into his dreams. He was even cuter when he was sleeping. Dean turned his head, the smell of a floral shampoo wafting into his lungs as Cas' hair fell around his nose. "Can I kiss you?" Dean asked in such a hushed tone he wasn't sure he had said it at all.

"Mmhm," Cas said in a weak and tired hum.

Dean ran his fingers down the boy's handsome face, his fingers felt like they were on fire as they ran over his flawless skin. He shifted, and Cas' body slumped down into his lap. He smiled to himself before leaning down and placing a small kiss on the boy's soft, warm lips.

Dean ran his fingers through the dark mane; he could fall asleep like this no problem. He picked up the bottle, and drank more. This kid was something special.

_Lonely rivers flow  
To the sea, to the sea  
To the open arms of the sea_

_Lonely rivers sigh  
"Wait for me, wait for me"  
I'll be coming home, wait for me._

* * *

The first song Cas was listening to was Landslide by Fleetwood Mac.  
The song Dean puts on it Unchained Melody by The Righteous Brothers

_Hopefully ill update soon._


	2. Scars

Hey everyone. Thank you for the kind words and kudos. I enjoy seeing that. It makes me want to write more.

Here is chapter two. I think its fun and kinda sexy.

I still don't have a beta (i've had a few offers but nothing concrete yet.) so once again if you see anything wrong let me know.

* * *

Roosters are inconsiderate jerks.

Roosters don't care if you don't want to wake up at the crack of dawn, they don't care if you stayed up late, and they really don't care if you're hungover. Castiel learned that the hard way when he awoke in the morning and was sure he survived getting hit by a truck.

His head may have been splitting apart. The rooster's shrill cry was filling the room like an air raid siren, pulling Castiel from his slumber. The light pouring in from the window stung at his eyes. He rubbed them with the back of his fists, waiting for them to adjust. His body ached, and his stomach was uneasy, filled with acid was trying to work its way up.

How he woke up in his bed was a mystery to him. Also, why he was only in his boxers?

He racked his aching mind for what had happened the night before. He remembered finding the bottles of wine, listening to music on the porch, Dean showing up... Dean. They had sat on the swing, listening to music and talking about their lives. They had opened up to each other. The last thing Castiel remembered was Dean switching the music.

Castiel looked down at his floor; his shirt and jeans were crumpled, leaving him sleeping in only his boxer briefs. His faced burned hot at the thought of Dean seeing him like this. What happened between them? Panic set in like a boulder sitting on his chest. Did he and Dean hook up? Did Dean have his way with him while he was drunk, leaving him before the sun came up?

The realization that he may have been with the hottest guy he'd ever seen and couldn't remember it made his uneasy stomach churn.

He dressed at a slugs pace and headed downstairs, where Dean was already brewing a fresh pot of coffee. Dean looked practically radiant, his smile beaming as Castile took a seat at the table and let his head fall to the table in his folded arms.

Dean let out a small laugh. "Good morning starshine." He said as he filled a mug and slid it across the table, letting it bump into Castiel's arms.

He picked up the mug, glancing at the thick brown mud before taking a long sip. It was bitter, and didn't help his stomach.

"Sleep well?"

The rooster crowed again, the earsplitting sound rocking Castiel to his core. "I really hate that bird. How are you not hungover?"

Dean shrugged before taking a seat. "I don't get hung over from fruity drinks like what you had last night. You also drank the better half of two bottles by yourself. Thought you said you could handle your booze?"

Castiel didn't answer, a pang of embarrassment filling him. He had spent the better part of five years trying to drown his resentment and desolation. Gabriel was usually his wingman in his pursuits, never judging him. But all it took was a little wine and he could barely see straight. The silence between them filled the room, making Castiel feel like he had an itch he couldn't scratch.

"How did I get back to my room?" He asked, unsure if he wanted the answer.

Dean smiled slightly, his lips curling at the corners. "You fell asleep on my shoulder, so after I killed off the rest of the bottle I carried you. You were stone cold drunk and I didn't want to wake you."

The idea of Dean carrying him to his bed resonated embarrassment through his body, "And my clothes?"

Dean's smile deepened at the question. "I figured your shirt was already halfway off, and those pants looked uncomfortable to sleep in."

Dean seeing him in his underwear only made the embarrassment worse. "Did… did anything happen… between us?" Castiel asked, his voice shaking, unsure if he wanted to know the answer.

Dean stared at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowing, before letting out a hearty laugh. It didn't make Castiel feel any better.

"Do you really think I'm that kind of guy?"

Castiel opened his mouth to answer, but closed it when he realized it was a rhetorical question.

Dean let out another small chuckle. "No, I dropped you off in your room and went back to the guest house."

A wave of relief washed over Castiel. He wanted nothing more than to kiss Dean, but only if he could remember it.

"Thank you," he said

Dean snorted, "For what? Being a decent guy? No problem."

Castiel couldn't find a proper response respond to that, so he took another sip from his mug, his other hand rubbing at his temple. His head felt like someone was playing pinball inside his skull.

Dean glanced him over, "That bad huh?"

Castiel just nodded, the sound of his own voice not making anything better. Dean scooted his seat from the table, the metal legs scraping on the floor making Castiel clench his teeth in pain.

"I have a few things to do around here, but when I'm done I'm going to take you to get the perfect hangover cure."

"How long will that take?" Castiel asked, hoping it wouldn't be long, unsure if he could wait much longer without his head exploding all over the kitchen.

"Well, Anna doesn't get here for a while, so maybe an hour, less if I had help." Castiel knew it was Dean's way of asking for help, and Castiel would do anything if there were a way to get rid of this hangover sooner.

"I could do some stuff." Castiel offered. "What do you need to do?"

Dean beamed, knowing he got his way. "There are two things I think you could handle. First, go to the chicken coop and collect the eggs. Then, feed Crowley. After that, just go shower and get ready."

XXX

Castiel felt the fear flowing through his veins like acid, corroding away his courage. He stood at the gate of the chicken coop, each of the hens looking at him with suspicious eyes. Maybe it was all in his head, but they knew he didn't belong there. They didn't want him there as much as he didn't want to be there, but if this got things done faster, so be it.

He unhinged the gate and stepped in, making sure to pull the door closed behind him like Dean had told him.

The birds seemed to part around his feet, none of them paying particular attention to him as he approached the nests. Most of them were empty, but a few had brown eggs sitting among the straw. With quick hands, he plucked them one by one and placed them into the bucket provided.

'This is easy' he thought to himself with a sigh a relief. The small clicks around him didn't seem to bother him anymore. He even found himself smiling. Just wait till everyone at home heard that he actually collected fresh eggs from a chicken coop.

A tinge of melancholy sparked inside of him at the thought of home. He still missed it but it's Not like anyone there cared about him, that's why he's here.

He banished the thought, continuing on his chore. He was almost done, the bucket heavy and nearly filled to the brim. The last ones were tucked under a hen roosting. Castiel reached for one of the eggs, but the hen didn't seem to enjoy that. It pecked at the back of his hand.

Castiel pulled away, putting his hand to his mouth, trying to relieve the sting of the peck.

"Hey, be nice." He said, before reaching for the eggs again.

The hen let out a shrill call before spreading its wings, puffing its body up, and leaping at Castiel. He staggered backward, tripping over his own feet, and slamming onto the ground. The bucket of eggs soared into the air before tipping over and spilling out onto him.

A dozen fresh eggs cracked over him, coating him in the goopy and slimy yolks, but the chicken didn't stop there; it charged him, its wings still flapping wildly. Castiel scurried backwards out of the coop.

The other chickens began to rabble, a commotion started as they swarmed around him, each of them pecking and clicking at him. Castiel leapt to his feet, grabbed the bucket and any eggs that didn't fall on him, and rushed from the hen house. He panted like a dog in heat, his lungs burning from panic. The chickens had won this round.

Crowley wasn't much better. Castiel wiped off most of the egg slime from his clothes before attempting to feed the pig. The way Dean put it; he was a 'mean ol' son of a bitch.' But all he had to do was take the feeding bucket and fill the troth. Simple, except it wasn't.

Castiel grabbed the bucket of what only could be described as slop; table scraps, discarded pieces of vegetable peelings, and things that may have once been food but now resembled piles of mush. The smell alone made his eyes smart and his already delicate stomach lurch, his gag reflex kicking into high gear.

He pushed past the rancid stench and entered the pen. The monstrous hog didn't seem to pay him any mind, so Castiel marched forward, his shoes sinking into the soft mud. Each step made a _plop_ as his shoes sunk more and more with each step. If he wasn't grossed out before, he certainly was now.

He reached the troth and dumped the bucket inside. What was he supposed to say? Eat up? Come and get it?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter. Crowley was up, his little eyes locked on Castiel like he was going to charge him. Castiel backed up, this time making sure not to trip over his own gangly legs, but it didn't matter. The hog let out a squeal that sounded like it was crying bloody murder and charged Castiel head on.

Castiel moved as fast as he could, but his feet were caked with what was, hopefully, only mud, which made it impossible to get away. Crowley caught him in no time and knocked into him with full force, smashing his legs with his enormous body and turning him face first into the mud.

After that, the hog didn't seem to care anymore. It trotted over to the food and began to gorge himself. Castiel took the opportunity to make his escape into the house.

Aunt Naomi and Dean stood in the kitchen talking as Naomi stood over the frying pan. When they saw him, each of them broke out laughing.

"What happened to you?" Aunt Naomi asked as she stabled her laughter.

"Crowley." Castiel replied, trying to keep himself from slinging mud over the house.

"Did you go into the pen?" Dean asked, trying to contain himself. "You were just supposed to give it to him from the outside."

"Now you tell me." Castiel huffed. "That information would have been nice to know before I attempted to feed the behemoth."

"It was an honest mistake. Get on up to the shower. Toss your clothes in hall; I'll make sure they get cleaned." Naomi practically pushed him up the stairs.

Castiel entered the bathroom, pulling off his mud-stained clothes and tossing them into the pile on the floor.

The water was tepid at best and felt like it was being rung out of a damp sponge. The lack of heat and pressure made Castiel sigh and long for the shower back in New York. The bathroom alone was the size of the living room here. The large shower was tile and glass, not linoleum and an aging shower curtain. And the water itself came out like you were standing in a monsoon of piping hot water, not this well water that barely did anything.

When he was done, he didn't feel any cleaner. If anything, he felt dirtier. The tub was now streaked with sediment as the wet dirt circled the drain. A white towel sat on the nearby rack, and Castiel pressed it to his face, inhaling the floral scent; thankful it was soft to the touch.

Inside his room there was a pile of clothes laid out for him; a white button down shirt and khaki pants, they were some of the most casual clothes he had.

He sighed, finished drying his hair, and began to pull on the clothes that were provided.

Dean was sitting on the couch, his knees unable to stay still. They bounced up and down nervously. When Castiel walked down the stairs, Dean stood, his eyes wide with excitement, his smile beaming.

"Don't you clean up nicely?" Dean teased, his crocked smirk sending a flare of excitement through Castiel's chest.

Castiel swore to himself, he shouldn't be letting some farm boy make him feel like that. But Dean wasn't making it easy to resist. He was nothing but verdant eyes and a rugged chiseled jaw line. He was handsome in a way Castiel had never really experienced back home. He was a blue-collar kind of guy, and it looked good on him.

"Then again, the mud wasn't so bad either."

Castiel made a face, like he smelled sour milk. Dean thought he was so funny. "Can we go? I'm starving."

Dean bit at his bottom lips, his eyes drinking in all of Castiel, causing him to shift uncomfortably from foot to foot. The last person to look at him like that was Balthazar; it was the look of longing, of wanting, but being unable to touch. Castiel felt his stomach fill with butterflies, which only made it feel more unsettled.

"Yeah, come on, I'll introduce you to Baby."

Baby, as it turns out, was a black 1967 Chevy impala, and in damn good condition; Castiel felt his jaw hit the floor when he saw the car. If Dean was sexy before, the thought of him driving that machine made him damn near irresistible. "Come on, get it."

Castiel didn't have to be told twice. He hopped into the passenger seat. The car smelled of hot leather from sitting in the sun. Dean turned over the engine, and the car roared to life like a wild beast on the Serengeti.

Some form of rock music blasted from the speakers and Castiel clamped his hands to her ears, his head feeling as if it was going to split in two. Dean instantly switched it down.

"Sorry," he said, shifting the car into the gear, "When I'm alone I like to play my music as loud as I can. Helps me think."

The dirt road was filled with bumps and dips, but Baby took them with no problem. Castiel could feel his himself turning green as everything inside of him was shaken by the road. He took deep breaths hoping it would calm him down.

It wasn't until they reached the main road that it was paved. The hangover had been taken to a whole new level. He no longer felt weak, but his head and innards both ached.

Dean glanced over at him. "Hey dude, no puking in Baby."

"I'll try and keep my stomach acid to myself." Castiel said with dry sarcasm.

It was a good fifteen-minute drive until they reached the town. They spent most of trip just listening to music and looking out on the fields of wheat and corn, conversation at a minimum. Castiel wasn't really sure what to talk about, so he kept to himself.

The town itself wasn't much. Most of the storefronts were small Mom and Pop shops with a few larger known stores mixed in. You could probably walk for five minutes in any direction and end up back in the corn.

The car came to a stop in front of what Castiel would call a dive bar. It was a small brown shack-looking building with a large garage attached to the side.

_Harvelle's Roadhouse Diner and Singer's Auto Repair_

"This is your idea of a hangover cure? More drinking?"

Dean killed the engine. "Sounds like my kind of time, but not what I was thinking. Come on."

Castiel expected to be hit with a wall of stale smoke when they opened the door. Instead, the scent of fresh food wafted past them. It hit him, calming down the churning of his stomach acid.

The diner itself wasn't what he expected at all; instead of finding a trashy dive filled with drunken hicks, it was a quaint little diner. Outside light streamed in from the windows and the walls were adorned with road signs and neon lights advertising different types of alcohol. It was quaint and homey, with a warming welcome.

A few patrons sat around, but none of them looked like drunk or roughneck bikers. They were families, most of them with children.

"Well hell's bells, trouble just walked back into my life." Said an older woman as she came out from behind the bar and greeted Dean with a hug. Her long dark hair swayed over her shoulders as she pulled away and pinched his cheeks between her fingers. Her face was stern, but caring.

"Good to see you too Ellen," Dean said.

Ellen, the woman who took him and Sam in after they ran away from their father, this was her place. Castiel felt guilt for thinking Dean was taking him to some bar. This was his family.

"I was just tellin' Sam how I ain't seen hide nor hair of you around here for a month," She teased, grabbing him by the ear and twisting until he was at her mercy. "Do you think that's acceptable, Dean Winchester?"

"No Ma'am." He whined.

"Damn right boy. I should make you go out back and cut me a switch so I can tan your backside."

"Hey, I'm not a kid anymore."

Ellen swatted him in the back of his head. "Don't you sass me boy. Now, Bobby's coming in soon, he'll be happy to see you. What brings you around?"

Dean slapped his hand on Castiel's back and forced him forward, closer to Ellen. "My friend here needs one of your surefire hangover cures."

"And who is _this_ handsome young man?" Ellen wasn't shy as she took Castiel's face in her hands and looked at him in the eyes. Her dark eyes were weary, dulled with the fatigue of a hard life. "Haven't had a looker like you pass through here in a long time."

"Thank you, Ma'am," Castiel says, making sure not to offend her.

"This is Cas, he's Naomi's nephew, staying for the summer. Got a little too drunk last night and now he's paying for it. I figured you could help him out."

Ellen pulled back, her mouth a thin, hard line. "Two bacon cheeseburgers and two banana shakes coming up. I'll have Jo bring them out. You boys take a seat."

Dean grinned. "Ellen, you're the best."

"Don't you forget it. When Bobby gets here, get your ass back to my office." Ellen disappears into the kitchen.

Castiel turned back to Dean. "You ordered for me."

"Yeah."

"Am I twelve?"

Dean didn't take offence, instead, he just laughed. "Don't get your panties in a bunch."

If Castiel could breathe fire, there'd be smoke coming out of his nostrils. He hated when people told him that. Before he could come back at him, a young blonde girl walked up to the table carrying two waters. She placed them down on the table.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She snaps at Dean, clearly unhappy to see him. "I thought you weren't showing your face around here anymore."

"Well I heard the freak show was in town but turns out it was just you. Can't you just admit you're happy to see me, Jo?"

"I'll be happy if you didn't make my mom worry all the time." Jo said haughtily, throwing a few straws on the table before turning to Castiel. Her eyes, filled with fire, seemed to cool when she look at him. She was a beautiful young woman, long flowing hair shimmering down her shoulders like sunshine, her body thin and fit. She was tiny, but Castiel could tell she was feisty. "And who are you?" She inquired; her voice much softer now.

"Castiel Novak."

"Are you related to Naomi?" Jo asked. Castiel nodded, which made her smile. "She's a wonderful woman. I'm Jo, Jo Harvelle, Ellen's daughter." Castiel could see the resemblance in the face. Ellen must have looked just like Jo when she was her age. "If you need anything, just call." She said with a wink before turning back to Dean. "You, on the other hand, don't call me for anything."

"Come on Jo, just admit you love me." Dean chuckled as she walked to the kitchen, giving him the finger without looking back.

Castiel just looked at him, unsure how to react to what he just witnessed.

Dean smirked. "She loves to give me shit."

"I can see that." Castiel said, taking a drink from his water.

"She thinks you're hot." He said, causing Castiel to choke on his water.

"What makes you say that?"

Dean shrugged. "The way she was treating you. She doesn't smile at anyone like that unless she thinks you're good looking."

"Oh," Castiel said, suddenly aware of Jo's subtle flirting. He felt stupid for not being able to recognize it. He wasn't used to people thinking he was attractive. "Well, she seemed very nice. Did you two ever…" He let his question trail off, unsure of why he asked it in the first place, a sprig of jealousy flaring up inside of him.

Dean's eyebrows furrowed before he reeled back, "Me and Jo? No way. She's like my sister… and besides, she's not my type."

"And what is?"

Before Dean could answer the question, Jo came back with a tray over her shoulder. She placed hot plates down in front of them, followed by two tall glasses filled with frosty milkshakes. "Eat up, Castiel," she trilled in a sweet voice, her hand on his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she looked at Dean. "You, Bobby's here, and they want to see you in the back room."

Dean took a bite out of his burger before standing. "Delicious," He said with his mouth still full. Jo made a face that showed she was grossed out, and Dean grinned, leaning down towards Castiel. "And to answer your question, I much prefer blue eyes."

Dean left before Castiel could say anything, and he felt his face burn red hot. He turned his gaze down to the questionable food set before him. The burger smelled amazing, and his stomach rumbled in response to the scent of warm food.

"What's the matter?" Jo asked as she took Dean's empty seat, "Food not up to your standards?"

"No, it's not that." Castiel responded**,** trying his best not to insult Jo, or her mother's restaurant. "It's just that I'm not the biggest fan of red meat."

Jo took a bite out of Dean's burger, and let out a snort. "Well buddy, you're in the wrong state. Nothing wrong with it," She takes another bite from the burger.

"I didn't say there was, I'm just not interested in dying from a heart attack at thirty."

"Try it, and if you don't like it I'll give you something else, on the house."

Castiel couldn't resist that offer. He picked up the burger, swallowed his fears, and took a bite. The taste was nothing short of amazing; the beef and bacon were so fresh they could have been on the farm that morning. It was nothing like the food he'd had before. He barely swallowed the bite before taking another one.

Jo had a smug look on her face; she knew the food here couldn't be beat.

"This makes me happy" he declared as he continued to scarf down the remaining burger.

Jo didn't seem to mind watching him eat. She sat there, a smile on her pretty face, while he chewed away. "So, do you have a girlfriend?" She asked as Castiel put the burger down and went to try the milkshake.

"Uh, no, no I don't." Castiel said, caught a little off guard.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question made Castiel choke on his shake. He coughed, clearing his throat. Jo didn't seem to see the problem. No one had ever asked him that question before, no one outside his brother. "No, no I don't have one of those either."

"Are you interested in Dean?" She asked easily, as if it were something she had done a million times before.

"Are you?" Castiel shot back.

Jo laughed. That seemed to be the thing around here, laughing at questions as if the person who asked it had two heads. "Dean is pretty much my brother. If I were into that kind of thing, then yes, Dean would be perfect for me. But I'm not, so what about you?"

Castiel knew that he must look like a tomato, his entire face burned bright with heat. When he didn't answer, Jo snickered. "Don't blame you, he's handsome."

Handsome? Handsome didn't even begin to cover it. Dean was near perfection. Those engaging eyes; that chiseled jaw line, the stubble that only made him look better,a winsome smile that could melt ice. He was gorgeous. If looks could kill, he'd be a hired assassin.

"I don't… really know him." Castiel said once he was able to squeak out, his throat feeling parched and arid.

Jo seemed to have found the answer she was looking for, she grabbed Deans' milkshake and began to dig in. "Dean's not easy to love. He's been put through a lot. He's spent a lot of time building walls up; making sure people can't get through. But when he loves someone, he always puts them before himself."

Castiel knew what she was talking about, his father. Dean had only scratched the surface of what had happened to him, but it seemed enough for a lifetime. Dean said he always took a beating for his little brother. He didn't care if he got hurt, as long as the people he loved didn't.

Jo shrugged. "We fight and get under each other's skin, but that's how we show our love to each other." She gave him a knowing smile. "But I'm sure it will be easy for your pretty blue eyes to make those walls come crumbling down."

Castiel wasn't sure what to say. He was sent here as a punishment. This was the last thing on his mind. But he had to admit; Dean was someone he would like to get to know better.

"Thank you, Jo."

She gave a slight nod and a smile. "Now that we got all that awkwardness out of the way, let's talk about some fun stuff, I know some stories about Dean that he'll never live down."

XXXXXX

"Bobby you ol' son of a gun, how've ya been." Dean cried, hugging his pseudo-father. He'd been so busy with work around Naomi's farm he hadn't had a chance to see his family.

"Good to see you, kid." Bobby said, hugging him back before pulling away and knocking Dean in the back of the head with his palm. "Are you thick, son?"

"Hey, what's with the third degree? This how it's going to be after a month?" Dean held his head as he took a seat across from Ellen, who was sitting behind her desk.

"No, that's what you get for not coming around for so long." Bobby said as he gave him another whack. "That one's for just being an idjit."

"What the hell did I do?"

"Watch your tongue boy, if you know what's good for you. Now, from what she's tellin' me," Bobby said, pointing to Ellen. "You've been messin' 'round with Naomi's nephew. You must be dumber than I thought, risking your job like that. Haven't you ever heard the saying 'don't shit where you eat'?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what the hell are you talking about? There's nothing going on between me and Cas." Dean lied as best he could. Technically, there was only a kiss, which Cas didn't even remember. Other than that there wasn't anything, no matter how much Dean wanted it. Cas was different. He was beautiful, but innocent**; **something Dean wouldn't want to tarnish with his tainted past.**  
**

"Bull." Ellen cut in. "Just seeing how you look at that boy, you'd think he molded the world with his own two hands. Now Dean, I'm not one to tell you what to do when it comes to your personal life, but we just want you to think things through." Ellen said in a much softer tone.

"Yeah, like think about how Naomi would fire your ass the second she found of you're screwin' her nephew." Bobby snapped.

This was what they did; Ellen was the good cop, Bobby was bad.

"Hey, I just met him _yesterday_, nothing's going on. Is this why you pulled me back here? So you could harp on me about my personal life?" Bobby and Ellen shared uneasy looks at each other. Dean raised his eyebrows, "What, who died?"

"No one… not yet anyways," Ellen sighed, and sat up in her chair. "Look, Dean, there's something I need to tell you, but I can't have you throwing a fit in here."

The atmosphere shifted, turning into a much more solemn and serious tone. Dean could feel his nerves starting to kick in, his leg unable to stay still. "What? Did something happen to Sammy?"

"No, nothing like that," She assured him, taking a deep breath and rubbing her fingers at her temple. "John contacted me."

The words made Dean's blood run cold. He could feel the color drain from his face. "What?"

"He called me the other day, asking how you and Sam were."

"Did you tell him to go to hell?"

Ellen took in a sharp breath, trying to stay levelheaded. "No, I told him that you were doing fine, workin' hard. I told him Sam was in Stanford, just finished his school year."

Dean balled his fists, outrage building up inside of him. "You had no right to do that." He snapped, his words much sharper than he intended. "You had no right to tell him about me or Sammy."

"You best bite your tongue right now," Ellen shot back. "You best remember who took you in. When you had nowhere to go, we gave you a home."

It was a low blow, but it made Dean recoil and think about his next words.

Ellen sighed again**.** "I didn't do it to piss you off. He's your father; he had a right to know how his kids are doing."

"Yeah," Dean said; a sob stuck in the back of his throat. "What kind of father was he when he was throwing whiskey bottles at us? Or how about the time he twisted my wrist back and fractured it? What about when he beat us with the belt so much it broke open our backs? What kind of father was he then?" Dean could hold back the pain anymore; the tears stung his eyes, his knuckles alabaster from clenching them.

"Now calm down boy, ain't no reason to turn a mountain out of molehill." Bobby said; trying to calm the situation before it got out of hand. "You don't have to do anything. He wants to see you both. We talked to Sam, and he agreed to it, but if you don't want to you don't have to."

Dean tried his best not to feel betrayed. His own brother went behind his back like that. It was hard not to feel hurt.

"We just want you to think about it."

"Yeah, okay. Are we done here?" He said, defeated. The thought of his father coming back in his life made his feel queasy.

"Dean, don't be like that. Just think about it." Ellen urged as she stood out from behind the desk and came over to give him a hug. Dean felt like he had no energy left. He equated agreeing to see his father again to making a deal to let the devil in his body. "He's not the same man you left behind. He's cleaned himself up. He just wants to make things better between you."

Dean nodded weakly, having no more will to fight. When Ellen let go of him he said his goodbyes to them both, and headed back to the diner, where Jo was regaling Castiel with a story that should never be spoken.

"So Dean pull's his pants down right there in the middle of the liquor store and yells 'PUDDING,' while I grabbed a few bottles of vodka and run the hell out of there." Both Jo and Cas broke down into a burst of laughter, not noticing that Dean was within earshot.

"Having fun?" He asked dryly, trying to make himself presentable.

"I was just telling Castiel about our trip to the liquor store."

Cas chuckled, "Indecent exposure, shoplifting. I'm starting to get a pretty clear picture."

Jo got up from the chair, and Dean took it back. Cas had emptied his plate, as well as Deans. "Feeling better?"

Cas smiled brightly. "Much. My hangover seems to have ebbed. Jo started eating your burger and shake. I just helped finish."

Dean couldn't help but smile, Cas was like a child; adorable and wide-eyed, like he was learning things for the first time. "You wanna get out of here?"

Cas nodded. Dean left a twenty on the table.

"You boys be careful." Ellen said as they were leaving. "I hear there's a storm brewing."

XXXXXX

Ellen wasn't lying when she said there was a storm coming. The sky that was clear blue when they entered the diner was now pitch black, bubbling with clouds as angry as the boiling sea. Castiel followed Dean back to the car, and he noticed the change in the other man's mood. Instead of cheerful, as he had been when they entered the diner, he was now brooding, his shoulders stiff as he started the engine.

Most of the drive was a tense, awkward silence. What happened in the back room? Dean went back there, all smiles and cheekbones, and now was a sulking ball of anger.

A bolt of lightning struck down, lighting up the sky. Thunder clapped so loud, Castiel could have sworn the earth was shaking. The rain came down in sheets, making it near impossible for either of them to see. Dean was able to make it to the dirt road, but as soon as the car hit it, the dirt had turned into a thick mud, the tires sinking down.

They came to a jolting halt. Dean pressed on the gas, but that only made the car sink in deeper.

They were stuck.

"Shit!" he yelled, slamming his fists into the steering wheel. They were close; Castiel could see the house from where they were.

"We could make a run for it." Castiel said, unfastening his seatbelt. "We should be fine… if we don't get struck by lightning."

Dean gave him an incredulous look. "And leave Baby here? Are you nuts?"

"We can come back for Baby when it's not about to be a twister." Castiel opened the door and made a break for it.

He was soaked before he could get ten steps away from the car. He didn't hear Dean get out, but next thing he knew, Dean had grabbed a hold of his wrist and was running along with him towards the farm. Castiel couldn't remember the last time he had been caught in such a storm. The last time he had ever seen it rain like this was when a Nor'easter had hit New York. This was dangerous, but for some reason he couldn't help smiling.

When they reached the farm, Dean tugged Castiel towards the guesthouse; it was closer to where they were. Once they were inside, Castiel wished he could shake the water off of him like a dog does. They were drenched. His hair was stuck to his forehead, completely soaked.

"Sorry if it's a little bit of a mess in here, I didn't expect to have company." Dean said as he kicked off his shoes and socks at the door. Castiel began to do to the same. "I'll get us towels."

The guesthouse was small but had a homey feel to it; most of the place was covered in piles of clothes that hadn't been put away, and different tools Dean had discarded onto tables and counters. Castile picked up a large bowie knife, unsure what Dean would ever need this for. He put it down as Dean came back into the room and tossed him a towel.

Dean looked him over. "I guess you'll need to borrow some clothes, can't have you catching a cold."

Castiel ran the towel over his hair, hoping to feel less like a drowned rat. When he pulled the towel off of his eyes, Dean was unbuttoning his shirt. Castiel looked away, unsure where to look. His eyes darted back as Dean pulled the wet fabric from his body, the muscles of his back flexing with each movement. Along his back, long white scars stretched from his shoulder down to his hips, like the stripes of a zebra.

"It's okay to stare," Dean said, shocking Castiel out of his trace. "I'm not embarrassed by them."

"What are they?"

"Scars," Dean stated as he took a step closer so Castiel could see better. The skin was pink and raised. "This is where my father took a belt to me. He hit me with it so many times it split the skin open."

Castiel lifted a hand and ran his fingers along the scars, the warm skin moving under his touch. Dean took in a deep breath as he felt Castiel's touch. "That's not the only ones he gave me. Right here," he said, turning around and showing Castiel his arm. Small white dots ran up and down his skin. "This is where he would put out his cigarettes on me. And this," He lifted up his hair, a small scar running down his forehead. "That's where a whiskey bottle hit me in the forehead." Castiel ran his thumb over the small scar on his forehead, Dean's eyes falling shut at his touch, like a cat that pushed into your touch when you pet it. "I'm a regular Frankenstein."

"No, you're beautiful." Castiel corrected him. Dean grabbed both his hands and pulled him closer. The two of them looked into each other's eyes; blue and green staring back at each other. Dean licked his lips as Castiel bit his own. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"I don't either." Castiel said back.

Their lips pressed together in a surge of licentious passion. It was like two magnets that had been pulling towards each other had finally come together. Castiel's melted into Dean's kiss, his heart pounding in his chest, his mind unable to comprehend. Was this really happening or just a strange trick of his mind. he thought to himself.

Castiel ran his fingers over the muscles of Dean's chest; firm and hot to his touch. Dean's fingers crept under the buttons of Castiel's shirt, his other arm wrapping around his waist and pulling him into his own body.

Dean's lips trailed down Castiel's neck, leaving blazing marks over his skin. Castiel gasped for air, his heart pounding like a drum, his own arms around Dean's neck. Dean planted one last kiss on Castiel's waiting mouth before resting their foreheads together. "This is a bad idea, isn't it?"

"Terrible." Castiel agreed, kissing Dean again.

Dean began to stagger backwards, taking Castiel with him. They tripped their way from the kitchen into what would be Dean's bedroom. Dean fell backwards onto the bed, pulling Castiel down with him.

Dean's finger fiddled with Castiel's belt before pulling it away from his body and forcing Castiel's pants down, leaving him in his soaked underwear. Castiel did the same, and when Dean was stripped down, he took a mental picture. This man was beautiful, and now Castiel had him in bed.

This would be the first time he was happy to be stuck in Kansas instead of Paris.

XXX

Castiel woke when the light streaming through the window shined in his eyes. He felt much better than he had earlier that day. His head and body aches were gone, and he felt full of energy. But he was alone. He was still in Dean's bed, but it was completely empty. Castiel searched for his clothes but they weren't on the ground anymore.

He ran to Dean's dresser and pulled out a pair of jeans and an AC/DC shirt. This would have to do. The clothes were baggy on him, the jeans barely held up along his skinny hips, the shirt hanging over his body like he was wearing a garbage bag.

When he left the room, Dean was sitting in his living room area. The place didn't look the same. The clutter that had taken up the table and couches was now cleared off; the pile of clothes must have been put away. Dean was sitting slumped over the couch, his mouth hanging open, a laundry basket with Castiel's clothes at his side. He must have done the laundry while he slept.

Dean looked so innocent, at ease, like he didn't care in the world; the wrinkles in his forehead would relax, his jaw unclenched. Dean was in a state of ease, unburdened by the stresses of life.

Castiel thought about the things Dean had told him. His father may have never paid attention to him, but at least he never laid a hand on him, not like that. Dean had been through a war as a child and was still somehow able to be a function adult.

Castiel leaned down and kissed Dean on the forehead. The older man shifted under his touch before his eyes fluttered open.

"Well hello beautiful." He **purred**, pulling Castiel into a kiss. "Don't you look sexy like that?" He said, looking Castiel up and down.

"You cleaned." Castiel said, moving the basket and plopping down next to Dean.

"Yeah… I guess I wanted this place to look better for you." Dean sounded embarrassed by the fact that he did that.

"For me?"

"Yeah… after what happened, maybe I'm hoping you'll be spending some time in here with me." It was flirty and sweet, and made Castiel blush a little along his cheekbones.

Castiel snuggled his body closer to Dean's. "I think I'd like that." The two kissed again.


	3. Falling

Hey everyone. Thank you all for the kind words, comments and likes. Its great to know please like my story.

Just so you know i finally got a beta so if you would like to reread chapter 1 and 2, they have been edited.

Thank you to orchids117, without her i would be nothing.

* * *

Falling is easy, frightening, but utterly painless. Jumping is the hard part. Building up the courage to leap and let gravity take control of your fate is a much more difficult, but Castiel couldn't help himself. Dean made it simple to fall in love with him.

Love? Is that what his was? It was something Castiel had never felt before. Butterflies were a constant presence in his stomach. He looked forward getting up each day, and each night was almost too hard to fall asleep from perpetual smiling.

The days slipped away from the calendar quicker and quicker, making it hard to kept track. May faded as June rolled in with a summer haze of heat and storms. Things were changing. Castiel was changing; the early mornings didn't bother him, most of the time he woke up before the rooster could crow, and the heat didn't seem to affect him as much as it did when he got here. His body had adapted to it and no longer felt like he was being cooked alive.

The chores around the farm became much more manageable; the chickens didn't attack him when he collected their eggs, and Crowley never got a chance to charge him again, as he was careful to stay on the outside of the pen.

Eventually, with his aunt's permission, he was allowed to help out more. He spent his day helping Anna with the animals, or learning how to fix something from Dean, or how to cook from Naomi.

Once, while helping Anna, he got to watch as one of the cows gave birth, and while it amazed Castiel, it also gave him nightmares for days.

Angry and bitter thoughts of Paris and New York were less frequent. He didn't miss the busy and filthy streets or the constant flow of people bumping into you. He didn't miss the concrete and steel or the insistent honking of taxi horns. He enjoyed being out in the sun and fresh air. Kansas no longer felt like a punishment. It felt like home.

Home. Castiel would almost laugh at the thought. A month ago he would have rolled his eyes and called someone crazy if they told him he was going to enjoy himself here. But here, he felt welcomed; he didn't feel like he had to walk around on eggshells. It was peaceful.

But the part that that made it all so easy was Dean. Dean was so much more than what Castiel had originally thought. He wasn't some hotheaded jerk. He was guarded; careful about whom he let in. Castiel couldn't blame him; he had been put through so much in his short life, his pain drawn on his body in a map of scars, something Castiel knew he could never have dealt with. He wasn't that strong.**  
**

With him, Dean was like honey, and now Castiel was a bee. He was sweet, and Castiel couldn't help but be drawn to him. Each day he would find a spot to perch his body and watch Dean labor away in the hot Kansas sun. Dean didn't seem to mind; every now and then he would look around while he was working, his eyes searching for Castiel until he found him.

He would always pause, taking moment to let out his large and radiant smile, filling Castiel with a whimsical and capricious energy. He loved the feeling, even when it made him feel lightheaded, like he was sinking into a bottomless sea with no sense of direction. Every night was filled with endless pleasure; his lips were perfect, full, with a deep cupid's bow, and so soft and enjoyable to kiss. They spend hours kissing, his thick stubble leaving Castiel's face raw and tender. Dean's rough callused hands trailed their way over Castiel's body, searing it with his touch, leaving his fingerprints on his skin as if marking his territory.

Castiel loved every minute of it. He wanted to be claimed. He wanted Dean to take him as his own. But Dean was apprehensive, scared of what others might think. He didn't mind kissing and holding Castiel in his bed, away from the prying eyes of Naomi or Anna, but outside it was quick kisses and stolen glances. If there were a chance they could be caught even smiling at each other, he would pull away and become cold, bury himself in his work. Castiel couldn't blame him. If Naomi was anything like his father, she would have him locked in the cellar while Dean lost everything he's worked for.

Castiel couldn't have that on his conscience. It was better this way anyways. It's not like they were dating or anything. They were just having fun, making the best of a bad situation.

At least, that's what Castiel kept telling himself. It was better to enjoy himself while he could instead of getting himself hurt by blurting out his feelings and have Dean not respond in kind.

No, instead of speaking out with his feelings, he put all of that fear and angst and anxiety into his art. He had taken more pictures than he knew what to do with. He nearly went through a roll of film a day. Most of them were of Dean with some other parts of the farm mixed In; the animals living their lives, Anna helping the cow give birth, Naomi in the kitchen fixing meals meant for an army to feed the four of them. But Dean made him feel inspired. He was his muse. Every photo caught Dean at the right angle, the lighting was always perfect, and he was photogenic to say the least. Dirty or sweaty he still looked beautiful.

Castiel's favorite was one Dean had no idea about.

When Dean had fallen asleep, Castiel had snapped a picture and pinned it in his room. Dean was sprawled out over the length of the bed, his handsome face pushed down into pillow. Whenever they couldn't spend a night together, Castiel would gaze at the photo and smile to himself. It would fill him with warmth, like Dean was there, his arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him in close and keeping him safe. It was enough to make him happy.

For the first time in his life, Castiel could honestly say he was happy.

"Castiel, you have phone call." Aunt Naomi called out from the door, pulling Castiel away from working on his photograph of a colt leaping around its mother.

Castiel walked into the house, Naomi washing the dishes from breakfast. The phone was off the receiver, sitting on the table. Castiel nodded his thanks to her, and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Cassie." Gabriel's voice boomed from the other of the line. It was the first time he had heard his brother's voice in over a month. It was warm and welcoming. "Let it be known that I have found the love of my life." This was nothing new for Gabriel; he would find a new love of his life every week. "She's beautiful, a goddess in carnet, a real firecracker. Doesn't take my shit, that's for sure."

"She sounds great already. What's her name?" Castiel asked good-naturedly.

"Kali, she's coming to visit soon. I met her while we were in…" Gabriel's voice trailed off, but Castiel didn't mind. "Um… yeah, I met her on vacation. Anyways, how's life in the ol' breadbasket?"

"It's actually not bad at all. I'm enjoying myself."

Gabriel went silent for a second. "Okay, who are you and what have you done with my brother? Are you an alien replacement?"

Castiel chuckled. "No body snatchers here."

"Are you being forced to say this against your will? If someone is holding a gun to your head blink one… did you blink?"

Castiel laughed. He missed his brother's sense of humor. "Is it that hard to believe that I could be happy here?" The other side went quiet. Castiel wasn't sure if his brother had hung up or disconnected. "Are you still there?"

"Oh my god, you're fucking someone, aren't you?" Gabriel accused. Castiel looked to his aunt, as if she had heard Gabriel from across the room.

"Don't be ridiculous…"

"That's it isn't it?" Gabriel cried, cutting him off. "You have to spill the beans, what's he like? Is he hot or a total local yokel you're banging to pass the time? I mean, I don't blame you, I just can't believe my little Cassie is all grown up and acting like a total slut."

"I'm gonna go now, it was good to hear from you."

"If you hang up this phone, I swear I will fly there…" Gabriel's words were cut away as Castiel hung the phone on the receiver, his heart speeding like a humming bird.

Of course Gabriel could tell what was going on, he was the only one who knew Castiel better than he knew himself. Castiel turned to his aunt as she dried off the plates she had just washed, a large smile spread across her face.

"I've very happy to hear you're having such a pleasant time here." She said, handing him a rag. Castiel picked up one of the plates and began to dry. "It's been wonderful having such young spirits back in the house."

"And it's been nice being here." Castiel said, sincerity running through his words. He really did enjoy being here.

"Is there any particular reason?" Aunt Naomi asked in a sweet and curious voice, causing Castiel to almost drop the plate he was holding. Was she asking if there was a person he was happy about?

"Um…" He stammered. "I guess all the fresh air has just helped me clear my head." He chuckled nervously. "I think I finally understand why people like the country."

Naomi wiped her hands off on the apron before placing them on the sides of his face, giving him weary smile. "You're such a sweet boy Castiel. If there is one thing I've learned in my old age, it's never let anyone stand in the way of your happiness. You must live your life for yourself. Worrying about what others think will only cause you more pain in the end."

The soft skin by her eyes crinkled as she talked. Castiel could feel the panic start to set in his chest like someone was reaching in and squeezing the air from his lungs. Did she know something more than she was letting on? If so, how? They had been so careful. Unless his father had told her why he had sent Castiel here there was no way she could've known, not unless she had just connected the dots herself.

"Now go on," She said, swatting him on the rear end. "I've got a lot of work to do around here, and you don't need to be hanging around your stuffy old aunt."

She just about pushed him out of the door; his head was still reeling from what she had said. He needed to tell Dean. Dean was not going to be happy about any of this, but he would want to know.

It wasn't hard to find him. He had told Castiel earlier that day he was going to be taking the horses out for a ride. When Castiel came near the carrel, Dean had already saddled up one of the largest stallions, holding on the reigns as the horse bucked back.

Castiel approached with caution, making sure not to frighten the animal. "Dean, we need to talk."

"Have you ever been horseback riding?" Dean asked; ignoring Castiel's plea for attention. Castiel shook his head. The closest he ever got to a horse was the ones giving carriage rides in Central Park.

Dean jumped down and pulled Castiel closer to the large beast, which let out whine as they stepped closer.

Castiel froze in his tracks; scared he may be trampled by the enraged creature. "Dean, I don't think this is the best idea."

"Do you trust me?" Dean asked. It was a simple question with a simple answer.

"Yes but…" That was all Dean needed to hear. He forced Castiel up on the horse's back, his body quaking with fear of being thrown off. Dean threw his legs over, his body pressing close behind Castiel's, arms around his waist holding him tight.

"Hang on."

Castiel tightened his grip on the harness as Dean pressed his heels into the animal's sides. The stallion let out a cry and began to gallop. Castiel clenched his teeth as the horse tore through the field like it was on fire. He could hear Dean laugh as Castiel held on for his life. He was trying his best not to freak out, but under his nervousness there was a small glint of jubilation, the fluttering of a new experience.

They didn't slow until they came to a small, well-beaten path. Dean pulled back on the harness, slowing the horse to a stop. He slid down off the horse's back, offering his hand to Castiel. Castiel took his hand and jumped off, almost falling into Dean's arms. He flashed an adorable smile as he helped Castiel regain his balance before taking the harness and tying it to a lone fence post.

"That's was exhilarating." Castiel said still in awe, his heart still flapping.

"Yeah? We'll come on, there's something I've wanted to show you."

Dean offered his hand again. Their fingers intertwined. No one else was around, Dean wasn't afraid to show affection.

They walked hand in hand down the worn path, neither of them saying a word, enjoying the sound of birds chirping and their feet stepping over the worn-down grass. The path wound in a curve of brown, stomped-down grass. Small pink and white petals began to cover the path, a few here and there but more scattered about until the path was covered in them.

That's when Castiel noticed that they were no longer out in the open air but under the shade of a canopy of trees, their branches reaching up and blocking out the sun, forming a tunnel for them to walk through. Each of them bloomed with hundreds of flowers that caused a sweet and heady lemonade scent filled the air.

As the wind blew, fallen petals dance around from the trees surrounding them in a flurry of blossoms.

"Magnolias," Dean said in answer to the unasked question.

Castiel put out his hand, catching petals on his palm.

"From what I've been told, they're your aunt's favorite tree, so every year your uncle would come out here and plant one for her birthday." His uncle? Castiel had no idea his aunt was ever married. "Now it just sits here making a canopy of leaves and petals . Let me see your camera."

Castiel pulled the camera from around his neck and handed it to Dean. He took a few steps back, holding the camera up to his face and snapping a few pictures. Castiel could only imagine how those looked, him standing in the middle of a storm of flowers.

"That looked awesome." Dean said as he handed the camera back. Castiel took it and placed it back around his neck, "Looked even better because you were in it."

Castiel felt his face burn.

"Dean Winchester, are you trying to seduce me?" Castiel asked in a flirty and joking manner.

"Why?" Dean asked, taking a few steps forward until he pinned Castiel against a tree, "Is it working?"

Dean's smooth lips fell to Castiel's neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses from the nape of his throat down to his crevice of his collarbone. Castiel let out soft moan as his fingers slid into the belt loops of Dean's jean and tugged him closer. They stayed there for a while, just kissing each other under the fragrant flora air.

"Hey, come here," Dean said, trudging away from the tree, Castiel right on his heels.

Dean crouched down in the field, his fingers plucking a small red berry from the earth. Before Castiel could ask what he was doing, Dean popped the berry into Castiel's mouth.

For a second, Castiel was in shock, but started to chew when Dean plucked another and placed it in his own mouth. The berry was sweet and tart and filled with juice that swished around Castiel's mouth before he swallowed it down.

"Strawberries," Dean said, plucking and eating another. "They grow wild around here."

"Seems like everything does," Castiel almost felt stupid for his failed attempt at flirting. "So is this why you brought me here, to spend the day kissing and feeding me wild strawberries?"

"No, actually, I brought you here for something else. Follow me."

Dean didn't stroll this time; he dashed away as fast as he could. It took Castiel a few seconds to register what was happening, his legs responding slowly to the quick change. Dean had an impressive head start, and even though Castiel ran as fast as he could, he still couldn't catch up to Dean, who had nearly disappeared from sight.

As Castiel slowed down to a walk, he began to notice a few scattered items of clothing; first Dean's shirt lay discarded along the trail. A shoe, then the other one, socks, his belt, and then his jeans. Dean was stripping as he ran. As the trail began to end he saw Dean standing on a small dock at the edge of a small pond in his underwear.

"What are you doing?" Castiel demanded.

Dean didn't answer with words. Instead, he hooked his fingers on the sides of his waistband and tugged his boxer briefs **down, kicking** them aside before turning his back and rushing towards the water.

Castiel picked up his camera and snapped a picture as the bare man leapt into the air, extended his arms to the side, and hit the water in a slash. The tranquil water rippled as he broke the surface.

He stayed under for a second**,** before popping up and slicking his wet hair back. "Come on in, the water's great."

Castiel walked on the dock and looked down at the water. It was muddy and dark. "Are you sure this is safe? What if there are leeches or snakes. I heard there are cottonmouths around here."

"Don't be such a baby, I swim in this pond every summer. Besides, you're more likely going to get bit by a cottonmouth on dry land."

Castiel was still wary, eyeing the water with suspicion.**  
**

Dean hopped out of the pond, the water glistening off the muscles of his body. "Now, either you get in on your terms, or I toss you in myself."

Castiel glared. "You wouldn't dare."

He should have known better to challenge Dean. The other man wrapped his arms around Castiel's waist and dragged him towards the water. Castiel squealed like a cat whose tail just got stepped on as he struggled to break free.

"Okay, okay, I give up."

Dean let him down. "I'm glad you see things my way." Dean's fingers went to the hem of Castiel's shirt, tugging it over his head along with his camera. Castiel kicked off his shoes and socks, and it didn't take much more before he was standing naked in front of Dean.

The two held hands as they ran towards edge of the dock and jumped, the chilled water was much colder than he anticipated. "See, that wasn't so bad."

Castiel hugged himself in an attempt to keep warm. "I'm freezing."

"Well then," Dean said, sliding their bodies together. "Let me keep you warm."

XXX

Outdoor sex was something new for Castiel. There was a part of him that was sure they were going to get caught, even if they were in the middle of nowhere, but that didn't stop Castiel from enjoying it. He never thought he would have the fortitude to do something like that, but he had met someone who make it feel right. He loved the way that Dean's body fit his so perfectly. He loved how Dean made him feel, how when he was with him the rest of the world didn't matter. He loved Dean. And that scared him more than anything.

Once all was said and done, they laid out on the dock, the sun beating down on their skin. It wasn't the most comfortable thing in the world, but it wasn't the worst.

"Dean." Castiel muttered, unsure how to tell Dean about what his aunt had said earlier.

"Hmm?" Dean hummed, his arm covering his eyes to block out the harsh sun.

Castiel weighed his consideration of telling Dean about what his aunt had told him. She knew something was going on between the two of them, but didn't outright say it. He knew Dean would be upset if he told him. Was it worth ruining this moment together?

"I think I'm getting sunburned." He said instead.

Castiel's skin wasn't acclimated to the rays of sun as well as Deans had been. Dean had spent many years working out in the sun, building up a natural defense of freckles along his entire body. Castiel, however, didn't have this defense, and his soft white skin was beginning to turn a slight pink under the ultraviolent rays.

Dean looked up, and frowned. Castiel knew he didn't want this time to end, but he wasn't going to let him get burned just to spend a few more minutes by the pond. "Let's get you back before you bake like a potato."

The ride back wasn't nearly as intense and thrilling as the ride there was. Instead, the horse trotted along at a leisurely pace. This time Castiel sat on the back, his arms around Dean, his face buried into the back of his shirt, holding onto him with a steel grip. Dean didn't seem to mind.

By the time they got back to the farm, Castiel could feel his skin starting to ache from the sun. His back and neck and chest felt hot under his shirt as it stung at his skin like hundreds of small needles pressed into him at once.

Dean pulled him back to the guesthouse, "take your shirt off and lay down." He demanded as he went to the bathroom.

Castiel did as he was told, stripping off his shirt and laying down on the bed. Dean came back from the bathroom with a small jar. He sat on the bed next to Castiel, opened the jar and placed the salve on his burning skin. Castiel clenched every muscle, the ointment cold as ice to his skin.

"Hey, relax. I know it's cold but it will take the sting away."

Castiel tried his best to loosen up as Dean's rugged hands ran over his back, rubbing the cooling cream into his skin. "I shouldn't have kept you out there for so long."

"It's not like you forced me, I had a fun time. Besides, it a little sunburn. I think I'll survive." The feeling of Dean's hands running over his body sent shockwaves through Castiel's body, sending blood flowing south.

"Turn over." Dean commanded.

Castiel flipped over, and Dean began running his hands over his red chest and stomach. "So when does Sam get in?" Castiel asked. Dean had been planning for weeks for his little brother to come for the summer, and now that Sam was almost here, Castiel was excited to meet the one person Dean admired so much.

"Should be getting in around six. I have to go pick him up at the airport."

"I could come with, keep you company." Castiel said. Dean wiped the excess gel from his hands on his jeans. "If you want."

Dean turned his back to Castiel, avoiding his gaze. "I think I should do it alone. There's a lot I need to talk to Sammy about. No reason for us to have to explain… our relationship on top of things."

Castiel sat up and pulled his shirt back on. "And what exactly is the nature of our relationship?"

Dean didn't answer right away. Instead he sat there, scratching at the back of his neck. "Come on, you know how I feel about you."

Castiel felt a pang of anger flush through him. "No, I really don't. You've never talk to me about 'how you feel'. One second you're taking me out for a dip in the pond and messing around, but then the next you're too scared to introduce me to your brother."

"It's not that-"

"Then what is it? Are we dating, are we just messing around until one of us get board? Please tell me, cause…" Castiel's words were cut off by Dean's lips pressed against his, a firm hand on the back of Castiel's neck.

"Look, this has nothing to do with you." Dean said as he broke away. "I like you… a lot. More than I've liked anyone in a long time… or ever, for that matter. But there's a bunch of family stuff that I don't want you to have to get involved in. It would just be easier if you didn't have too."

Suddenly Castiel felt an overwhelming twinge of guilt in the pit of his stomach. He wanted to ask what kind of family stuff, but didn't want to push his boundaries. When it came to family problems, Dean never would talk about it. They usually spent hours of Castiel talking about his neglectful father, but Dean only ever dropped small bits about his own.

"Believe me, this is the type of shit you don't want to deal with. Just… just don't worry about it."

Castiel pulled Dean into a tight hug. It was a loving and warm hug. The type of hug that said _I'm here if you need to talk._

XXX

Dean drove with the music turned up as loud as he could get it without blowing out his eardrums. He wanted to block out the world at this point, although he didn't really have anything to be upset about. He had spent a wonderful afternoon with Cas. Just being able to hold his hand and kiss him without worrying about what other people thought was a huge relief to him. Cas was different; he was like a child discovering things for the first time in his life. His wide-eyed wonderment always brought a smile to Dean's face.

He was easy to be around, he was easy to kiss and talk to and love. Love. The word made Dean feel like the jaws of an animal were clamping down on his windpipe. The way Cas looked at him always made his bones feel like they were turning to Jell-O, and when he kissed him, it set his body ablaze; like he was standing on the surface of the sun.

But in there laid the problem. He cared about Cas. He cared about him more than he cared about himself. But how long was Cas going to stick around? Cas was a city kid. He grew up with a silver spoon in his mouth. He was still in college. He didn't belong here. At the end of September, Cas would be packing up and going back to his ivory tower and leaving Dean in the dust.

The thought set in a sick feeling deep in the pit of his stomach. It was for this reason that he didn't want to fall for Cas, but it wasn't easy staying away from him.

Dean focused on the road and the music blaring in his ears. He tried to banish the thoughts of Cas from his mind by replacing them with Sam. Dean was ecstatic his brother was finally coming back for the summer. He hadn't seen him since Christmas, which was too damn long to go without him.

The airport was an hour's drive from the house. Dean didn't mind, in fact, he liked the feeling of the open road. It calmed his nerves. It was like going into a trance, letting this reflexes take over and his mind go to ease.

By the time he arrived at the airport, all the worry had been sucked out of him. Sam was already waiting for him; a backpack slung over one of his shoulders, a large suitcase by his feet.

"Hey, bitch," Dean teased, hopping out the car to pull his brother into a tight hug.

"Good to see you too, jerk." Sam said, hugging his brother.

They stood like that for a few a while before pulling apart. "Well, enough of his hippy crap. Let's get going. Everyone is waiting to see you." Dean grabbed the suitcase and tossed it into the backseat. The brothers buckled themselves in and took off down the street. As the music blasted from the speakers, Sam turned down the dial, trying to save himself from hearing loss.

"Jeez, Dean, are you trying to make yourself go deaf?" Sam checked to make sure his eardrums hadn't popped.

Dean shrugged**, **"just excited to have my baby bro back, that's all."

Sam may have been younger, but he definitely wasn't a baby. The man stood inches over his older brother, tall enough that Dean always thought he was going to smack his head on doorways and hanging lights.

Sam shot him a look, his eyebrows raised in disbelief. "Oh really? How is everyone? Have you talked to Ellen or Bobby lately?"

Dean's shoulders stiffened at Sam's words. "I've stopped in at the roadhouse."

"Then I guess you know?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I heard." Dean said, his tone suddenly dry and harsh, void of the excitement he had minutes ago. "And the answer is no freakin' way, not in a million years."

"Come on Dean, it's one meeting. How bad could it be?"

Dean tightened his grip on the steering wheel, his knuckles becoming white as bone, his shoulders and neck tense. "Do you not remember what he was like? The shit he put us both through? Because I do," his voice was now hard as steel and as sharp as razors.

If there was one thing about Winchester's, it was that they were stubborn; Dean more so than Sam, but his baby brother was still not one to back down. "How many nights did he come home, drunk out of his mind, and take his problems out on us?"

"I know that Dean, but… he's still our father." Sam pleaded.

"Yeah, what's your point?" Dean snapped.

"My point is that what little family we have should stick together. Look," he said before Dean could fire back at him. "I love Ellen and Bobby and Jo, they took care of us when no one else did, but they're not blood. Dad wasn't perfect…"

"That's putting it lightly," Dean muttered.

"But no parent is. I think if he's truly cleaned up his act we should give him another chance… if not for his sake, then for mom's."

That was the final straw. Dean slammed on the break, sending them both lurching forward and the car to a squealing halt. "Don't you go there Sammy." Dean's eyes were deadly serious. "Don't bring mom into this. She would have never put up with that crap." Dean kept his hands on the wheel of the car, his arms shaking from rage inside of him coming to a fever pitch. "She would have been sick to her stomach if she knew the shit he did."

Sam held his hands up as a sign of surrende**r, **letting out a deep sign. "Alright, I get it. I'm just saying that when she died it wasn't easy on any of us. That fire took away a lot more than her; it took away his peace of mind. Yeah, it's easy to stand there and blame him for what he did, but he was left to raise two kids and no time to grieve. Looking back, I don't blame him for drinking away his pain."

Dean began taking deep breaths, trying not to think about that night. He could still remember the smell of smoke filling his nose, his lungs burning as he coughed up ash, the horrible scream of his mother, as she burned alive, leaving them to sit and watch helplessly.

"Yeah, well, we were just kids Sammy. We shouldn't of had to deal with that crap."

"Well I'm a grown man now Dean. I don't need your permission. I can decide to see him if I want. But I want you there with me. I want my brother by my side. I want us to feel like a family again."

Dean ran his visibly shaking hands through his hair and let out a deep anguished sigh. Sam wasn't going to let his go. He was determined to try and mend their broken family. "One hour, that's all he gets. If shit goes south, I'm not doing it again, got it?"

"Thank you." Sam said, sincerity in his voice. "That's all I want, once chance."

Dean slammed on the gas, the tires ripping at the pavement as they pushed forward.

Dean turned the radio back **up; Sam** didn't turn it down.

XXX

The rest of the car ride was much more lax compared to the first half. After a while, Dean loosened up, and the two were back **to laughing together.** Sam told Dean about the girl at school he started seeing. Her name was Jess. Dean congealed his little brother on becoming a man.

"What about you Dean? Anything going on?"

"Same old, same old, Sammy," Dean shrugged, brushing off the question.

"What about Anna?" Sam asked.

Dean let out a small laugh. "Anna may be hot, but she is an ice queen. All I get from her is daggers from her eyes."

"So, all quiet on the western front?" Sam asked, still dancing around the question Dean knew he wanted to ask. They were quiet for a moment before Sam changed subjects. "What about the 'city kid'?" He asked in a mocking tone, "What was his name? Chad? Cad?

"Cas." Dean correct a little too fast. "He's a cool guy. I took your advice, swallowed my pride and apologized for acting like a jackass." Dean held his tongue to keep himself from spilling the truth about his relationship with Castiel, as he knew that Sam wouldn't understand. "He helps out a lot; I'm showing him a thing or two."

Sam nodded, waiting for more information. But when it didn't come, he prodded for more. "And how long did it take you to hook up?"

"What? Nah, it's not like that with Cas."

Sam gave him the look. It's the look that Sam always gave Dean every time he knew he was lying. "I'm calling bullshit."

"Hey, you can't bullshit and bullshiter."

"Come on Dean, look at you, your practically glowing."

"What?" Dean said, looking at himself in the mirror. "There's no glow."

"Dean, who knows you better than anyone else?" It was a question that didn't need to be answered. It was Sam. "When I mentioned his name you could barely keep from smiling. You have the worst poker face."

Dean cursed himself. Sam knew how to call his bluff. "Alright, fine, yeah we've hooked up a few times. No big deal, ya happy now?"

Of course that was another question that didn't need to be answered. Of course Sam wasn't happy because that opened a whole new can of worms. "How long did it take for that to happen?"

"Two days." Dean huffed.

Sam let out a small whistle. "Wow, two days? You must be losing your touch in your old age. I remember when the great Dean Winchester could 'bag' someone with only a few words."

"It's not like that with Cas, he's… different. He's not some one-night stand. I didn't even plan on it happening. We just started kissing, and one thing lead to the next, and the next thing I know I'm…" Dean cut his words short. He didn't dare speak the words out loud. _Next thing I know I'm falling for him._

"Holy crap," Sam said with wide eyes, like a fish that's been pulled out of the water. "You're totally in love with him. I can see it written all over your face."

"Sammy, I swear, if you don't stop talking I will smother you in your sleep." Dean threatened.

"Hey, it's not a bad thing." Sam said in defense. "You know it's okay to open yourself up to other people; don't you? In all the years I've been alive, I've never seen you get close to someone. It's not a bad thing to let your guard down, Dean. I mean, look at you."

"Would you quit saying that, I look the same as I always did." Dean said.

"No, you don't. You look… happy." Sam grinned, and Dean scoffed. "It's not a bad thing to let yourself be happy."

"Well, it's not that simple." Dean grumbled.

"What in life is?" Sam shot back. "What's the problem?"

The conversation seemed to turn into a game of hot potato, one would say something, the other would pass it right back. Dean hated playing this game with Sam, mostly because Sam would always find a way to win.

"The problem is; why would I start something with someone who isn't going to stick around? Come September, he's out of here. Back to his real life, and I'll just be a distant memory in his rearview mirror."

"You don't know that."

"Yes I do. I'll just be a story to tell his college friends, I'll be 'that summer' he hooked up with a redneck. I'm a fun time, Sammy, but not a keeper, and he's just a kid—he didn't know what he was getting into."

Sam, for the first time, was speechless. Dean had laid out everything he'd been holding in.

"What's the matter, don't have a witty comeback for that?"

Sam shook his head. "No, Dean. Not this time. I just wish you wouldn't be so hard on yourself. You're a great guy, Dean. So what if he's from New York, so what if he's a college kid, _so what_ if leaves? At least you tried and had a good time while it lasted. And at least, for once, you took a chance, even if it was temporary."

"Well, maybe I don't want to spend all my time hurting and moping around over someone who I knew was going to take off."**  
**

"Because, Dean, sometimes it's better to hurt than feeling nothing at all." There it was; this was Sam's slam-dunk move, the game changer, the ace of spades he's hiding up his sleeve. "For twenty-six years, you've walked around like a zombie, going day to day without really living. Now someone's come along—and for once in your life—makes you feel something, and you're too scared to go for it because you don't want to get your _feelings_ hurt? I thought I knew you better than that. What happened to my brave big brother, the one that ran in the middle of the night, stole a car, and left behind the one shitty life we knew? Where's that Dean?"

"Damn Sammy, feel free not to hold back." Sam's words were like a shotgun bullet fill of rock salt to the chest. They tore Dean open, but wouldn't kill him, just leave him bleeding

They had finally made it back to the house. The car ride had seemed to fly by that neither of them seemed to notice that they were this close. As Dean killed the engine, Sam grabbed his bags and stepped out.

"It's the truth, Dean; you're your own worst enemy." With that, Sam slammed the car door shut and headed towards the house where Naomi was waiting to greet them.


End file.
